


A Cross-Country Guide to Diplomacy and Babysitting

by voidknight



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, On Hiatus, Post-Canon, Rated T for swearing, Road Trips, this is my excuse to put my four favorite characters in a car together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 04:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26467207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidknight/pseuds/voidknight
Summary: One summer day, six years after the Promised Day, two events suddenly coincide to make Edward Elric's life Very Difficult:1. Alphonse agrees to babysit Selim Bradley while Mrs. Bradley is on vacation,2. The Emperor of Xing sneaks out of his country and arrives at the Elrics' house unannounced, ready to take a well-earned break from his responsibilities.Obviously, the only solution is for the four of them to go on a road trip.
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric, Edward Elric/Ling Yao
Comments: 25
Kudos: 67





	1. unusual guests

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes you just have to shove your four favorite characters in a car together and see what shenanigans occur. be the self-indulgent road trip au you want to see in the world!
> 
> am i starting a multi-chapter fic while college is also just starting? maybe so. fortunately i’ve got an outline this time? we’ll see how this goes though oh boy

Of all the many strange happenings that could have played out in the center of the Rockbells’ living room, Edward Elric was not exactly expecting to return from an overlong trip to the market to find Alphonse, laying on his stomach, coloring in an elaborate crayon mural with none other than Selim  _ fucking _ Bradley.

Yes, Al had mentioned he’d been in contact with Mrs. Bradley for some time. Yes, Al had mentioned he’d be busy with a bit of a babysitting job for the next week. No, Ed had not put two and two together. Hell, he hadn’t even  _ thought _ about it—he was just about to depart on another short journey away from home, and how his younger brother occupies his time while he isn’t studying in Xing is none of Ed’s business anyway.

But here he is. This kid-sized version of the fetus that Ed handed to a teary Ms. Bradley on the Promised Day six years ago. In a little vest and shorts and everything. His hair still spikes up on one side. His eyes are still bright and wide. His bangs almost hide the round birthmark in the center of his forehead.

Selim catches sight of him, and waves enthusiastically.

“What,” says Ed.

“Oh! Ed!” Al looks up from his side of the crayon drawing, which is… a field of flowers? Maybe? “Our guest arrived a little early! Mrs. Bradley says hi. Sorry you couldn’t see her.”

“What,” Ed repeats.

“You remember Selim, don’t you?”

Of course he remembers Selim. How could he forget the one who almost skewered him with a blade of shadow in the middle of a burning forest? Well—no, that isn’t fair; Pride is long-dead along with all his siblings, but god  _ damn _ if the resemblance isn’t uncanny. Everyone else from back then has changed in so many ways—grown older, grown wiser, at least allegedly—and now here is a real blast from the past. He could have been plucked directly from one of Ed’s nightmares.

“Is  _ that _ who you’re babysitting for a week?” he asks, like the answer isn’t literally right in front of him.

“Uh-huh!” Selim pipes up. He mashes his red crayon into the paper to produce a particularly incoherent scribble.

Amusement flows through Al’s voice. “Did I not tell you?”

“Um,” says Ed, because he probably did, to be honest, but the chances of Ed retaining that information are unfortunately rather slim. If only he had the memory for basic everyday exchanges that he has for books and books worth of alchemy fun facts. “Are you sure he’s not evil?”

Selim sticks his tongue out at him. Al laughs, though Ed thinks he sees his brother’s eyes widen in alarm for a split second—perhaps worrying that the boy will take offense. “Very sure.”

Ed does not move from where he’s stationed himself in the doorway, hands still full with two bags of groceries. He’d almost forgotten their weight. He goes, “Well, that’s good,” and stretches his shoulders, and trundles off towards the kitchen, because honestly, what else is there to do in this situation?

After he’s done putting all the food away, he returns to the living room, where, yes, Al and Selim are in fact still there, still absorbed in their art. So this is a thing that’s happening in real life, then. All right. Ed would like to think he’s mature and well-adjusted enough to not throw a fit over it. After all, what  _ is _ there to throw a fit over, anyway? The fact that his brother’s chosen to spend his time with a six-year-old who happens to be the reincarnation of someone who tried to make them end the world?

“So, Selim’s staying for… how long? A week?”

“Just about. I promise we’ll stay out of your hair, though.” Al shares a knowing grin with Selim, and Ed thinks,  _ Oh god, they’re already in cahoots. _ “But I don’t know if we’ll even need to—weren’t you going to go on that road trip, brother?”

“Road trip?” Selim echoes, sitting up very fast.

“Erm…” Ed scratches the back of his head. “It wasn’t much of a road trip.”

“Because you can’t drive.”

“I was going to take the train!! Just… wander around a bit. See some of the smaller cities of Amestris.” He shrugs. “Something like that.”

“I wanna go on a road trip,” says Selim, tugging at Al’s sleeve.

Al laughs. “Come on, we’ve gotta give Ed his alone time, right?”

They speak so easily with each other; Ed has no idea how they do it. Not to mention that something about that phrasing gives him a twinge of guilt. It’s not  _ alone time. _ It’s just that he’s restless. It’s been a year or so since he returned from his journey to the West, and now that he’s settled down, he’s got this urge to get going again—not to any particular place, just  _ go. _ Chase those omnipresent glimmers of curiosity.

Instead of brooding over it, he goes and helps Pinako make dinner. Al’s still better at cooking than he is—paradoxically, spending four years as a suit of armor seemed to really strengthen his taste buds—but Ed still enjoys it because it’s kind of like alchemy, isn’t it? Winry’s laughed at him for that observation so many times, but everything she makes tastes like either oil or shit, so Ed figures there’s at least something going for his interpretation of the whole matter.

It’s a bit… surreal, for lack of a better term, to have someone else sitting in Winry’s place at the dinner table. Winry’s been flip-flopping between Resembool and Rush Valley, and right now she’s at the latter. Funny—Ed was just thinking it was pretty quiet without her around. Now, he’s completely unsure what Selim’s presence will do to the whole tone.

It starts off as a normal dinner, at least. They’re having stew (fuck yeah) with fresh vegetables from the market, and Ed happily digs in. Selim’s manners are impeccable. He eats quietly, interjecting only with little questions like “How was your day, Miss Pinako?” And Pinako smiles and thanks him for asking and describes the automail leg she’s working on, adding a couple pieces of gossip about the client, to which Selim responds that automail is Really Really Cool.

And Ed thinks he could get used to this. He likes kids, after all, and Selim is just that: a normal-ass kid who is not hiding any dark secrets this time around. Maybe this week could even be… fun?

There’s a sudden sort of  _ whump _ sound at the door. It’s not  _ really _ a knock. It sounds like if someone knocked with their whole body—and yes, Ed has been slammed against wooden things enough times that he knows what sound that makes.

“Huh,” says Pinako, rising from the table. It’s twilight outside—past the reasonable hour for visitors. “Maybe a package?”

She crosses into the other room and opens the door. A short silence follows. Ed doesn’t think much of it. He’s too focused on his stew. (It’s really fucking good stew, man. He’s proud of himself.)

It’s not until Pinako’s shrill voice calls, “Ed? I think you should come see this,” that he begins to get the sense that something is very not right.

Ed stands and rushes over to the door, followed by Al and then Selim, who clearly does not want to miss out on this mystery. On first glance it  _ does _ seem like a package—Pinako’s standing there, holding the door open, staring down at something on the steps. Clearly not looking up at a person. Except when Ed steps closer—

Oh. Oh, it  _ is _ a person.

“What the  _ fuck??” _ he mutters, and if Pinako hears, she doesn’t comment. Because—slumped in front of them, spiky black ponytail sticking up out of the back of his head like an erupting geyser, wearing the tackiest yellow hoodie Ed has ever seen—is the unmistakable form of Ling Yao, Emperor of Xing.

Apparently, this day  _ could _ get even stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to the fics that made me want to try my hand at my own post-canon edling adventure?? especially [this one](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15798951/chapters/36767853) by etymologyplayground and [this one](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26311225/chapters/64066315) by kaielle


	2. a recipe for disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old friend shows up. Plans are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fair warning - i don’t care a _ton_ about geographic accuracy in this fic, so when they’re talking about how long it will take them to drive from one place to another - probably not going to be so true to the canon map. also, most of the towns i’m including are ones i’ve completely made up!
> 
> definitely not gonna try to stick to a regular posting schedule but ummm considering the rate i'm writing this at, might update once a week? once every two weeks? chapters are probably gonna be long but we will see :0  
> thanks for all the enthusiasm already!!!

“Is that  _ Ling??” _ cries Al, and Selim exclaims something along the lines of “hey, I know that guy!” but Ed’s already pulled himself out of his stupor and taken the initiative to grab Ling under the arms and hoist him up. Ling hangs like a limp rag doll—a particularly  _ heavy _ rag doll, and Ed realizes as he drags his friend to his feet that  _ Ling is still a good amount taller than him, _ which is so fucking unfair that he almost considers dropping him.

Ling groans and wraps his arms around Ed’s neck, half supporting his own weight. He’s very warm, and very alive, and apparently not in a state to care how much he’s draped himself over his friend. (Like Ling has ever cared much about things like personal space.) He’s practically crushing him at this point.

“Alright, alright,” Ed growls, putting on his best flustered teenager voice. “You’re a big boy, Ling. You can stand on your own.”

Ling murmurs something about being hungry. Who could’ve guessed?

“Uh, Pinako?”

“I’m on it,” she says, and hurries back into the kitchen to fetch another bowl of stew.

Ed and Al each take one of Ling’s arms and drag him to the table. Selim darts around them, eyes full of sparkling wonder. Didn’t he say he knew Ling? Likely from the news—Emperor Yao and his exceptional diplomatic relationship with Amestris are mentioned frequently—but this Ling looks very different from the photographs of a young man in lavish robes with his hair all done up in a knot. This Ling has the exact same energy of the fifteen-year-old who Al once found passed out in an alleyway. Sure, he’s older—face a little more defined, hair a little longer, certainly taller—but his bangs stick out in all the right places and he looks like a certified disaster.

Talk about blasts from the past.

After plopping down onto a chair (Al’s), Ling wastes no time shoveling stew into his mouth. Ed and Al share a glance. Okay, so he hasn’t changed at all.

Much to Ed’s dismay, Ling manages to consume the entire pot of leftover stew. Guess that’s not gonna be lunch tomorrow. Finally, Ling pushes his empty bowl away from him and stretches, letting out a contented  _ ahhhhh. _

“Oh, I really have missed this,” he remarks, turning to Ed and Al with a casual grin. “You know, they won’t let me eat so sloppily as the emperor? Even in private? Not even if I’m really hungry? Of course, can’t get food on my fancy clothes, but…”

He stops, belatedly realizing that everyone is just staring at him.

“You didn’t tell us you were coming to visit,” says Al. It’s a statement that contains many, many questions.

“Oh, yeah, sorry! I had to be super sneaky about it.” At their horrified faces, he waves a hand. “Don’t worry, it’s all sorted out. Mei’s covering for me.”

“Covering for you??” Ed explodes. “You’re the fucking emperor! You can’t just… fuck off to Amestris!”

“Yes, nice to see you too, Ed. Ooh, you’ve gotten handsome, haven’t you?”

“W— _ what?” _

“Is Lan Fan with you?” Al asks. His hands are over Selim’s ears, and Ed figures that this is his fault. (Maybe he should be making a little more of an effort to keep the swearing to himself?)

Ling starts to answer, then spots Selim and does a double take. He noticeably tenses, hand jumping to the hilt of his sword. Because of course he’s carrying a goddamn sword.

“This,” continues Al patiently, removing his hands, “is Selim! I don’t think the two of you have met.” He gives Ling a pointed glare.

“I think we have met,” say Ling and Selim at the exact same time, in entirely different tones.

_ “Anyway.”  _ Ed barges in between the two of them, slapping his hands on the table and glaring down at Ling. “You—did you—did you really not bring Lan Fan??”

“Nope!”

“You can’t tell me she would agree to you sneaking out, or whatever the—”

“Oh, yeah, I snuck out. She helped, actually. Granted, it took weeks and weeks of convincing, but now she’s serving as a guard for Mei, and I hear they’re doing a  _ great _ job—”

Ed covers his face with his hands.  _ “Why _ are you here, Ling??”

“To see you, of course!” he chirps. Then: “Wow, no one calls me  _ Ling _ anymore. Excellent. Well, that’s exactly why I wanted to see you.”

“That’s—what??”

“I wanted to have normal friends again! And that’s why I’m taking a week off.”

“A week off from being emperor.”

“Yes!”

“You’re shitting me.”

Al gives Ed a glare, but doesn’t bother covering Selim’s ears this time. Selim just looks enraptured by the conversation. Pinako watches from the other end of the room with her arms crossed and one eyebrow quirked.

“Doesn’t even an emperor deserve a vacation, Ed?” Ling’s tone is placid, as if he fully expected such resistance.

“Well—sure, but not like  _ this!” _ He gestures wildly to Ling’s entire… situation. It looks like he’s purposefully picked out a set of the gaudiest Amestrian clothes he could get his hands on. At least, that’s what the banana-yellow hooded jacket and poofy burgundy pants communicate.

“This is my disguise. Do you like it?”

“You look like a toucan threw up on you,” says Ed, praying that he’s thinking of the right type of obscure tropical bird. (If he isn’t, that would be incredibly embarrassing.)

“Thank you! I’m not sure what that is, but I’ll take it as a compliment. I see you still dress like a goth.”

“Oooh, BURN!!” yells Selim, in such a way that Ed figures he has absolutely no idea what Ling has just said but wanted to get in on the conversation anyway.

“Hey! It’s not—it’s a coincidence I’m wearing all black today, okay??”

He taps a finger to his chin. “Hmm. I won’t believe you’ve developed a sense of style until I’ve seen it with my own two eyes.”

“Like you’re one to talk!” spits Ed, but then a hand is on his shoulder, pulling him backwards. It’s Pinako.

“All right, Ed, back it up a little. Let the boy breathe,” she says, grinning. And Ed realizes just how close he’d gotten, and wow, that’s embarrassing.

“I’m twenty-one,” Ling corrects.

“Mm. You’ll always be an unruly teen boy to me.” She lets out a bark of laughter. “And you sure are acting like one! Are you sure you’re allowed to run off by yourself like this?”

“Oh, trust me, it’s all fine. Unorthodox, maybe, but all under control!”

“I can’t believe Lan Fan would let you do something like this,” Ed mutters.

“Honestly, I can hardly believe it myself. But it’s okay—I’ve got the second-best guards in the world, now!” He throws out his arms towards Ed and Al, grinning like a sunbeam.

Now that his anger has cooled off a little, the full picture is arranging itself in Ed’s head. Al’s in Xing often, and Ling’s got little reason to visit anyone else in Amestris, so he has, apparently, concocted this whole batshit plan entirely for Ed’s sake. Man, when was the last time they’d even spoken? They’d kept in pretty regular correspondence for a year or two, writing letters back and forth each month, but that had tapered off as Ling got more and more absorbed in his duties and Ed began to travel West. Ed probably still has those letters somewhere. They weren’t anything substantial—accounts of their day-to-day lives, some fun facts about alchemy, the latest social issue in Xing that needed fixing. Come to think of it, a letter to Ling was the first place Ed ever admitted he was bisexual—but usually the subjects were a lot more mundane and a lot less personal.

(He seems to recall that Ling had responded to his confession with something stupid and smug, like  _ “Aw, Ed, I could’ve told you that! I’m proud of you though <3” _ and Ed remembers wishing alchemists would invent instantaneous travel so he could teleport over to the Imperial Palace and kick his friend’s ass.)

“Should we be worrying about assassins hearing of your, ah, vacation, and coming to track us down?” asks Al after a moment.

Ling laughs. “Nope! As far as my subjects are concerned, I’m off on a trip to a monastery on a mountain in a distant part of Xing. No one’s going to be looking for me. I told you—all planned out!”

“That’s impressive,” Ed concedes. Ling flashes him a smile.

“Thank you! And it was a much-needed break, too—I think I was about to snap if I looked at one more piece of paperwork.”

“Ling,” calls Pinako. She stops, eyebrow climbing higher. “Or… Emperor Yao?”

“Please, ‘Ling’ is perfectly fine! More than fine, in fact!”

“—Ling. If you plan to be sleeping here—and not on the floor—I expect you to haul up the fold-out couch from the basement. I take it you remember it from your previous stay?”

Ling springs to his feet, rubbing his hands together in delight. “Ooh, manual labor! How exciting!”

“Spoiled prince,” Ed mutters.

“Emperor!” sings Ling, scooping up his plate and tossing it into the wrong side of the sink.

Before Ed can produce another quip about that, Selim pipes up. “Are you really an emperor?” he asks with the kind of awestruck voice that only a six-year-old can manage.

Ling falters for a second upon being forced to acknowledge the boy who is definitely not the homunculus who tried to kill him. “Yes,” he replies, still cheerful but suddenly wary. “Emperor of Xing!”

“That’s so cool!!” squeals Selim. He turns to Alphonse, tugging at his sleeve. “Al! Al! Is he staying all week too?”

Ed, Ling, and Al exchange a glance.

“Um,” says Al. “I think Ling wanted to spend some time with Ed—?”

“Going on Ed’s road trip?”

“Road trip?” murmurs Ling.

Al blinks. “Well, I don’t—”

“Can we come with them?”

“Um—”

“Please? Please?” Selim bounces up and down, hands clasped together.

A sinking feeling is settling into Ed’s stomach. That’s right, he was just about to head off again. Can he imagine taking that journey alone with Ling? The prospect makes something inside of him squirm. He can’t even imagine the awkwardness—thrust into a bonding situation when they’ve spent so many years apart. But if the alternative is—

Al looks back and forth between Ed and Selim. He flashes a look at Ed that screams  _ please help me. _ “Ah, well, Ed and Ling haven’t seen each other in a while, and—”

“But a road trip would be so fun! It could be all four of us!”

“Yeah!” cries Ling suddenly. He reaches down and ruffles Selim’s hair. “Why not? What better way to spend a vacation?”

Ed is seriously considering carrying out that assassination attempt.

“Now, hold on,” he yells above Selim’s excited babbles and Al’s confused stutters. “I—you—Ling, you  _ do _ know who this is, right??”

Ling pats Selim on the head, giving Ed the biggest smirk he’s ever seen. “Who? This cute little kid? Who we’re taking on an exciting road trip?”

Ed buries his face in his hands as Ling and Selim hi-five. Either Ling is an incredibly forgiving person, or he’s just trying to piss Ed off. Either is equally likely.

“Okay, okay, everyone calm down,” Al is saying. “This is—wow, this is a big change of plans. Selim, you really wanna go on a road trip, huh?”

“Yes! Yes!” The boy is practically vibrating in place now, with all the energy of someone who’s been told to stay still and calm and quiet but simply cannot help himself. “Your house is cool, Al, but a road trip would be even cooler!”

Ling nods along, sticking his thumb and forefinger underneath his chin as if deep in thought. “Yes, yes. And it’s important for an emperor to be well-traveled… he should be familiar with the lives of citizens in other countries as well as his own…”

“Didn’t you just say you came here to get a break from being the emperor??”

He shrugs. “Why can’t I do both? Makes for a richer experience.”

Ed is about to argue more, but Al taps him on the shoulder. Ed starts, following his brother over to a corner of the room, a little ways away from the other two.

“Brother,” begins Al, his voice dangerously bubbly, “this  _ could _ be really fun.”

“Hey, you’ve never traveled with Ling before.”

“Don’t tell me you’re not interested in going on an adventure with Ling.”

“What’s  _ that _ supposed to mean?”

“That you’re friends!” Al cries in a half-whisper. “What else is it supposed to mean? Are you really going to turn down an opportunity to hang out with your old buddy?”

He snorts. “Ah, yes, my old buddy, back from when we both almost died and then had to go undercover for months while he was being possess—”

“You know what I mean.”

Ed’s eyes dart back to where Ling appears to be showing Selim his sword. Pinako watches on in amusement. “And what about Selim?” he hisses.

“What about him? He’s a perfectly sweet little boy.”

“Look. Even if I was 100% confident that he wasn’t going to flip his shit and start murdering people—”

Al sighs. “Brother. You are, on occasion, a smart and rational person. You know that Pride is long gone. There’s really no use in holding a grudge.”

“I know, I know,” mutters Ed. “Okay. Fine. Still. He’s  _ six.” _

“Yeah… I should probably call Mrs. Bradley about this, huh?”

“Not even that—do you really think that  _ we, _ of all people, are going to be able to take care of a six-year-old?”

“I don’t know about you, but  _ I’m _ responsible! Someone put  _ me _ in charge of said six-year-old, after all.”

“Yeah, okay, but me and Ling? Are probably the worst influences on children ever?”

Al gives him a sly grin. “Just keep the swearing to a minimum and you’ll be golden. I know you’re good with kids.”

Another glance back at Ling and Selim reveals that Ling is fully just swishing his sword around in the kitchen. Pinako seems perfectly fine with this. “But what about  _ this _ kid?”

“What about him?”

“I just think this is a recipe for disaster.”

One of Al’s eyebrows goes up. His mouth quirks into a small, teasing smile. “Since when have you been one to run away from disaster, dear brother?”

He wants to say something like  _ After I stopped being sixteen and rash,  _ or maybe  _ And what is your definition of disaster, then? _ —but as he looks back towards the table one more time, he catches Ling in the middle of a chuckle, and their eyes meet. Ling looks so… carefree. His smile is so wide and honest and unburdened. And in that moment, Ed thinks that something inside of him melts a little.

God, as much as Ling annoys him to death—he had missed his old friend.

“I won’t force you,” Al continues. “You know I’d never do that if you were legitimately uncomfortable. But it’s been a while since we’ve traveled together!”

It’s true. Though they’ve been living together, their individual travels to the East and West couldn’t have been more different. Meeting in the middle—a journey around their home country—seems right somehow.

“Fine,” says Ed. “We can go on a road trip. But don’t blame me when it all goes to shit in two days.”

“Road trip is a go!” Al hollers, and both Ling and Selim cheer.

With that first hurdle out of the way, there’s now the pressing issue of—where exactly are they going to go? Amestris is not the world’s largest country; they could probably do a loop around it in two days if they were feeling ambitious. To help with the planning, Al pulls a huge map out of a drawer and spreads it across the kitchen table.

The route that they end up deciding on— _ they _ being Ed and Al, as neither Ling nor Selim particularly care  _ or _ have much knowledge of geography—is less of a circle and more of a spiky shape, zig-zagging through the countryside of Amestris. All in all it should take them about a week, copious resting time included. They’ll be stopping in a lot of the smaller towns, as those are usually the ones that Ed and Al haven’t explored as much, with the exception of Rush Valley. Can’t skip out on seeing Winry, after all. They decide against going to Dublith (the Curtises most likely don’t want to be bothered, especially not by the eclectic crew they’ve got going here) or Ishval (too much baggage, even if many new towns have been built over the destruction) or anywhere too far north (even in summertime, the snowy landscape of Mount Briggs never changes).

The fact that they’re now going by car rather than train is sort of an unspoken truth. It’s just a lot more convenient for their purposes. Plus, they don’t have to worry about Ling being found out this way: as a certain illegal immigrant found out many years ago, train stations are frequented by those eager to check passengers’ identification. Another given is that Al’s driving—no one else  _ can _ drive, after all. And even if Ling could, no way would Ed trust him to do it well.

“Right,” says Ed. Now that he’s fully immersed himself in the planning mindset, he’s got to admit that he  _ is _ excited to be traveling with friends again. “Is everyone okay with leaving tomorrow morning?”

Heads bob up and down around the table.

“What time?” asks Ling.

“Uhh… maybe 10, if we want to make it to our first stop by lunch?”

“Okay,” he chirps. “Sleeping in! How exciting!”

Ed does not ask what time Ling is regularly required to wake up.

“I get up at 8 everyday,” says Selim proudly to no one in particular.

Al smiles. “Excellent! Then you’ll be up to help me make breakfast for our lazy companions, huh?”

“It’s your fault I sleep so much!!” Ed yells across the table.

“It’s been six years, brother. You don’t have to do my sleeping for me anymore.”

“Doesn’t mean I’ve kicked the habit!”

It looks like Al is about to make a snide comment in response, but then he starts suddenly, mouth forming into an O-shape. “Ah! Selim! I’d almost forgot. I have to call your mother and make sure this is all okay. Sit tight for a moment, alright?”

He disappears into the other room. Selim bites his lip, shrinking back into his seat. For his sake, Ed finds himself hoping that Mrs. Bradley will say yes.

“Mrs. Bradley?” comes Al’s voice. “No, no, it’s… yes, we’re having so much fun! A friend of Ed’s came over, actually, and we were thinking of… no, I don’t think so? …Yes, he was, but you never met, I don’t think.”

Ling leans over towards Ed. “He’s not gonna tell her I’m Emperor Yao, is he?”

“Doubt it.”

“We were thinking,” Al continues, “of going on a bit of a road trip! …Yeah, isn’t it! …We’ll make sure to, yes. It’s… mmm, don’t you think? Well, we just marked up a map, and…”

They go back and forth like this for a while. Al lays out all the plans they’ve just decided, making sure to pepper in how of  _ course _ they’ll take care of Selim! And there shouldn’t be any danger at all! And if there is, well… they’re all fairly skilled combatants, so they’ll be able to take care of it, haha…!

When Al steps back into the kitchen, he’s wearing a huge grin.

And somehow, to Ed, Mrs. Bradley’s approval is what really drives the point home, or drives the final nail into his coffin, or however that saying goes. Well, maybe not a coffin. Maybe it… slams the final door of the clown car? God, no, that’s a stupid metaphor. Suffice it to say that this whole road trip thing finally feels like Real Life.

The four of them chat and plan and refine their route for a little longer, until it becomes evident that it is  _ way _ past Selim’s bedtime. So Al goes off to help Selim find his room (that he’ll now be staying in for one night, not seven) and Pinako trails after them with the proclamation that this really has been quite an exciting day, hasn’t it? And Ed and Ling are left alone in the kitchen—with a map and a couple pens and guidebooks and a stack of dirty dishes.

“Okay,” says Ed, glaring at his friend (who is sitting cross-legged on one of the chairs, doing absolutely nothing), “if you’re gonna stay down here, I’m making you help me do the dishes.”

“I’m afraid don’t know how to do dishes.”

Sigh. “Bet you have a bunch of people to do that shit for you back in Xing?”

“Pretty much.”

Ed crosses the room, scooping up all the empty bowls. “It’s fine. I guess it’s kind of rude to make a guest do the dishes. If you could pile up the books and stuff, though, that’d be great.”

Ling nods and stands and starts collecting all the scattered pens.

They work in silence—a silence characterized not by preoccupation with work, but by a conscious failure to think of anything worthwhile to say. Ed concentrates on the sound of rushing water from the tap and pretends that it masks the awkwardness. Meanwhile, Ling finishes his clearing task quickly, and sits back down, hooking an arm over the back of the chair. Ed can feel his eyes on him.

Ling is the first to speak. “I suppose this is as good a time as any to say that I missed you.”

The furious scrubbing motions of Ed’s sponge slow for a moment. “Missed you too.”

“I can’t even remember when was the last time I wrote to you!” He scratches the back of his head and gives an apologetic laugh. “A year ago? No, two? I think I was telling you about the New Years celebration that year. You never wrote back.”

Ed looks away. He must’ve been in Creta by then—changing addresses so frequently that some letters were bound to be lost. “Sorry. I guess I forgot.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I nearly forgot to send that one, too.”

“Did you really come all this way to see me?”

“Sure! Well, first and foremost to get away from being emperor. But, yeah, like I said. I certainly wanted to see you again.”

“Why  _ me?” _ The question comes out slightly more agitated than Ed means it to.

“Why not you? We’re friends.”

“It  _ was _ six years ago.”

“So? It’s not something I’m ever going to forget. Like the nightmares would let me forget, haha.”

He laughs again, in that way he does when he’s trying to lend a lightness to something that perhaps doesn’t deserve it. Ed doesn’t look at him. Bits of stew have dried and congealed and stuck to the bowls, and some of it is surprisingly tricky to remove.

“You have nightmares?” he whispers.

“Sometimes. It used to be worse. I’m doing a lot better now.”

Ed recalls the dread that would sink into his stomach for years and years after the Promised Day. The grief that welled up inside of him. The minute details that stuck to his mind like sand. Clawing into his memories as if that would change the past. Being shunted between therapists, piecing himself back together. Figuring it out.

“I’m doing better too,” he says. Truthfully.

“That’s great. It was rough.” An amused snort. “I still can’t believe we were fifteen.”

“Sometimes I can’t believe I’m  _ not _ fifteen! It felt like I was fifteen forever!”

“Are you glad to be an adult now?”

“I dunno,” says Ed. “Yeah. I think so.” And after a moment of contemplation: “I mean, I was basically an adult at twelve. Not much I can do now that I couldn’t do then.”

“Same.”

“WHY are we talking about this!” Ed cries suddenly. He puts down the last clean dish and whips around to face Ling, resting against the countertop. “We haven’t seen each other in literal years and the first fucking thing we do is dissect our shared trauma.  _ How _ does this happen. How does this happen to  _ us, _ of all people??”

Ling shrugs. “It’s late. And seeing you again just reminds me of all that.”

“Couldn’t you be reminded of all the  _ good _ moments?”

“Oh, don’t you worry, ‘Edward Elric Funny Moments’ plays on a constant loop in my brain.”

“I—funny moments??”

“Yeah! Ooh, ooh, how ‘bout—Fullmetal Funny Moments. It’s got that nice alliteration.”

“You’re just saying words now. What exactly constitutes a  _ funny moment?” _

“Um, maybe when we ate your boot?”

“That was survival!”

“It’s hilarious in retrospect.”

“Okay,” Ed admits, “that it is.”

Ling snickers. “All the times you blew up at people for calling you short…”

“That was completely justified.”

“Or the time Heinkel pushed you out of a tree…”

“What!! When did he do that??”

“You thought it was a great idea to sleep in a tree one night, remember?”

“I absolutely did not do anything of the sort.”

“You did!” sings Ling. “You said you were going to be lookout. And then you fell asleep.”

“That’s completely different than  _ sleeping in a tree.” _

“That is quite literally sleeping in a tree, Ed!”

“Why the hell did Heinkel push me down, then??”

“Um… I don’t remember? It might have been an accident. Whatever the case, it was very funny.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” says Ed with a glare. “All right. Enough about me. Let’s hear some Ling Yao Embarrassing Moments.”

“Ooh, sounds exciting. Save those for the car ride tomorrow.”

“You really want Selim hearing about the time you asked Darius about chimera sex?”

“That was Greed!” Ling insists.

“Uh-huh. What a convenient excuse.”

“No, I’m being completely honest. If you’re going to tell embarrassing stories about me, they’ll have to be about  _ me.” _

“What about, um…” Ed wracks his brains. Now that he’s actively thinking about it, all the memories seem to be evading him. “What about the time you invaded my sleeping bag at like 3 am?”

“Aww, did you not like that?”

“No! You were freezing!”

“Exactly why I wanted to cuddle up with you,” says Ling with a smirk. “Plus the fact that I had a massive crush on you. But you can’t blame me. It was the middle of winter!”

Ed’s train of thought screeches to a halt, tries to reverse, and completely derails in the process. His face grows very warm before he can even begin to process what Ling has told him. “You did?”

“You didn’t realize?”

“Um,” says Ed. “No?”

“Ha!” Ling sits back in his chair, folding his arms. He looks so remarkably unperturbed that Ed feels foolish for the way his brain is spinning like a hamster in a wheel. “That’s a pretty good embarrassing story, though. It’s much more unique than all the silly stuff you could say about my eating habits.”

Part of Ed would very much like to rewind and go  _ Wait, wait, you had a crush on me? Like an entire gay crush on me and you never told me? _ —but part of him also wants to forget this ever happened because oh man he would rather not revisit his days of teenage crush confusion. Okay, at least it’s in the past. At least Ling brought it up because it’s old enough to be laughed at.

(Then why is face still burning and his heart still hammering?)

“I hope you’re not planning to continue with those eating habits,” is what he says instead. Alas, he knows it’s a lost cause.

“Oh, I brought my own money this time, don’t worry.” He gestures to his bag—a small thing he’d dropped by the door earlier. Ed had barely noticed it.

“Is that all you packed?”

“Yes? I don’t need a lot! I didn’t want to be burdened, you know.”

“Do you have a change of clothes?”

“Nope! I was—”

“—Hoping I would lend you some.”

“Well,” says Ling. “Maybe.”

“You’re still fucking taller than me! Like hell those are gonna fit!”

“Relax, I’ll buy some new ones instead. That’ll be fun, right? Shopping trip!”

“That could be fun,” Ed admits.

“That’s the spirit.” Ling jumps up and runs over to retrieve his bag. “You know what, Ed, it’s been great catching up, but the exhaustion from the journey over is starting to get to me again. See you in the morning, okay?”

“Where are you sleeping?” Ed asks as Ling tucks his sword back into his belt.

“Oh, just the couch.”

“The fold-out one?”

“No point if it’s just one night. I think I’ll use the regular one.”

“Oh. Uh, have fun.”

“Sleep well!” Ling calls, beginning to move towards the other room. “Big day tomorrow!”

“Right,” says Ed. “And, ah, you too.”

Ling’s smile sticks in his brain as he makes his way upstairs and begins to get ready for bed. Well, then. He’s about to be treated to an entire week of it. That, at least, is something to look forward to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> realistically i think that lan fan would absolutely not let ling just run off on his own like this, but it's one less character i have to keep track of so :pensive: i'm so sorry lan fan


	3. day 1 part 1: an abundance of cows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The unlikely quartet _finally_ sets off on their trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW okay it really has been a couple months since i last updated this huh?? okay well hello everyone and thank you all for your patience! got sucked into a new fandom IMMEDIATELY after starting this so that has been very fun. anyway, i still like this idea but i don't have a lot of motivation right now so i'm not sure when/if the next chap will be up. hope to get back to it sometime though!
> 
> again, thank you so much everyone who left nice comments on the last two chapters!! they all made me really happy :D

Ed wakes up at 9:30 AM to the sound of a heated discussion downstairs.

Adrenaline propels him instantly out of bed. Fuck, fuck, what time did they say they were going to leave? 10? Half an hour to get changed and load the car and  _ god fucking dammit _ he hasn’t even packed, yet, has he? He stumbles out of his room in a daze, all the details of last night rushing back to him. And Selim Bradley is here and Ling fucking Yao is here,  _ Ling, _ emperor of Xing, Ed’s old frenemy, and wow, what even is his life anymore?

“We can’t make a decision until he’s awake!” Al is saying, rather sternly. He’s standing beside Ling at the foot of the stairs. Ling’s eyes are narrowed—even so more than usual—and his arms are crossed, putting on a pout that is clearly fake. Selim hovers around them, looking gleeful.

“I’m juuust saying,” Ling replies, “it  _ is _ only my second time experiencing the beauty of the Amestrian countrysi—ah!!” A grin erupts over his face as he sees Ed, and he springs halfway up the stairs, flinging out his arms. “And here he is! My wonderful, excellent friend Edward Elric whom I love very much.”

“What,” says Ed, voice thick with sleep. He narrowly succeeds in not blushing at Ling’s exaggerated greeting.

“You’re looking great today! Has anyone ever told you how dashing you look with your hair down?” Ling leans against the bannister and cocks his head just so. Ed really does not like the way that his heartbeat flutters. It’s too fucking early in the morning for his friend to be hitting on him, if that is indeed what Ling is doing, which he  _ probably isn’t, _ but look. Still.

“What do you want, Ling.”

Al sighs. “He wants to ride shotgun. I told him that you—”

Ed actually wheezes at that. He doubles over, then looks back up at Ling in disbelief. “What? You greedy bastard.”

“Brother,” Al warns, indicating the child standing next to him.

“Come on,  _ bastard _ isn’t even a swearword. Selim, do you  _ really _ mind if I curse in front of you?”

Selim opens his mouth, but Al cuts in,  _ “I _ mind. Just because I think Mrs. Bradley would mind!”

“It’s just words—”

“He’s six, Ed!”

Ed, admittedly, does not have a very good idea of how old  _ six _ really is. Maybe that’s just a normal adult thing. Or maybe it’s because much of his childhood seems to blend together. At least… everything before it all started going to shit.

“Fine, fine,” he grumbles, then locks his eyes back on Ling’s cartoonish grin. God, what does he even say to something like that? “Have you been fighting with Al about this all morning?”

“Yes!” whines Ling, while Al simultaneously corrects, “Not  _ fighting.” _

“Well, too bad. It’s my car.”

“It is quite literally not your car! It’s Al’s!”

“He’s  _ my _ brother.”

“You can’t even drive!”

“Neither can you? That has nothing to do with it??”

Ed thinks he hears Selim ask in the background, very quietly, “Can I sit in the front, Al?” —to which Al responds that he is unfortunately not tall enough.

“I haven’t been in a car in forever,” Ling sings. “Don’t be rude to your guest, Ed!”

Ed presses his palm to his forehead. “Fine! Fine, whatever, you can sit shotgun. For today.”

Ling whoops and claps him on the back, then scampers outside with a call of “Thank you very much, my dear friend!!”

“Well,” says Al, barely containing a giggle, “I’m glad that’s all sorted out.”

“I hate him so much,” Ed mutters. “Remind me why I agreed to this?”

“Because you missed him just as much.” He smiles. “Now, go get changed. We’re not gonna leave without you.”

So Ed drags himself back upstairs and throws on some clean clothes and brushes his teeth and takes his meds and wonders what the hell he’s supposed to pack. Clothes, of course. Preferably ones Ling won’t make fun of? Eh, he can just throw some shit in a bag and deal with it later. Books are also a must. He’s slowly been making his way through an epic fantasy novel, and if there’s any true downtime, that’ll be fun to pick up again. Oh, and can’t forget all the new alchemy research papers he finally got his hands on the other day. And if he’s bringing those, he better bring all his reference texts, too, just in case. Those are a strange sort of comfort to him. If Ling or Selim manages to legitimately piss him off,  _ A New Theory of Alkahestry _ and  _ Alchemy: The Definitive Guide (11th edition)  _ will be sure to calm him down.

He’s pretty good at packing quick & light when he needs to, so he’s downstairs well before 10. The car stands outside—summer dust is smeared across part of its dark blue surface, but otherwise it seems in good shape. It looks like Al’s just about finished loading everything into the trunk. Ed tosses his bag on top of the pile, then makes his way over to the front of the car, where Ling is already lounging in the front passenger seat.

“Ooh, wearing red again?” he remarks, leaning out the open window. “It’s just like old times!”

“Oh,” says Ed. He hadn’t noticed, but come to think of it, his button-down  _ is _ a rather familiar shade of red.

“Do you still have your old coat?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t suppose you still wear it.”

“Not really, no.” It’s been folded up in the back of his closet for years. He’s half afraid he’ll start crying if he touches it again. Silly as that is.

“Too bad,” says Ling, and leans back into his seat, removing his arms from the windowsill.

“All right!” Al calls. The trunk slams shut, punctuating his words. “We’re all ready to go! Has everyone been to the bathroom? Got any last-minute business? Make sure you haven’t forgotten anything!”

Ed checks his pockets and runs through his mental list of Things He Cannot Forget. Wallet, keys, his old pocketwatch in case he needs to prove his identity. All good on that front.

He slides into the seat behind Ling. Al’s car isn’t the largest in the world—it’s perhaps the blandest, most average vehicle one could buy, a choice which Ed distinctly remembers arguing with his brother about—but it fits four people remarkably comfortably. Ed glances over at Selim, who’s seated beside him. Great. Just great.

“Hey, Ling!” he yells at the massive ponytail sticking in his face. “You’re too fu—too goddamn tall! I can’t see out the front!”

Ling giggles. “You wanna come sit on my lap?”

“You could sit in the middle seat,” pipes up Selim before Ed has a chance to process what sounded dangerously like another flirt.

“Uh… good thinking, but I think I’ll be okay, Selim.”

“Okay!” He gives Ed a big grin, then leans closer, like he’s sharing a secret. “I’m way shorter than Al, too, so I can’t really see the front either!”

“Sorry,” Al laughs.

“It’s okay! We can just look out the side windows!”

Pinako comes out to see them off. For a fleeting moment, Ed recalls all the times he and Al showed up at the Rockbells’ completely unprompted, then left quickly with no indication of when they’d be back—or if they’d be back at all. It’s kind of nice to have a set travel schedule. They’ll be back in a week. That’s not too long.

Goodbyes and well-wishes are exchanged, along with a couple good-natured threats from Pinako, mostly along the lines of  _ I better not be hearing from Mrs. Bradley if you four get into trouble _ and  _ Try not to almost end the world again, please, _ which is a bit of a running joke by now.

And then they’re off, the dirt road stretching before them.

“Road trip! Road trip! Road trip!” Selim chants, slapping his hands against his knees. “I almost never get to go outside Central! And now I’m going to go to all four of the other big parts of Amestris!”

“Does your mom not let you travel much?” asks Ed with mild curiosity.

“Nuh-uh. She says the world is super big and dangerous.”

“Ha!” Ling barks, slightly too loud for such an enclosed space. “My mother was like that too. It makes you really good at sneaking out.” He swivels in his seat, facing Ed and Selim. “I would highly recommend learning to sneak out. The earlier the better, in my book.”

Al laughs, not taking his eyes off the road. “Don’t you think that’s a bit irresponsible, Ling?”

“I don’t really wanna sneak out,” admits Selim. “My mom would be really worried.”

“Ah, to each their own, then,” says Ling. He makes to turn back around, then does a double take, gaze sharpening. “Hey, did I ever do a proper introduction? I’m His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Yao, but you can call me Ling!”

He smiles a goofy little smile entirely unbefitting a major world leader, and sticks out his hand. Selim grabs it and squeezes tight.

“I know! I’m Selim. Um… just Selim.”

Ling pulls his hand away, leaning it on the seat divider. “Not Pride?”

Everyone in the car goes very, very still.

Well, this is just great, Ed thinks as Selim’s eyes widen. Two minutes into the road trip and they’ve already dredging up this sorta shit. The kind of thing that best stays buried.

“Not Pride,” says Selim, very quietly. His voice wavers—more in confusion, perhaps, than upset.

“I see,” Ling hums. Then, sensing he’d crossed a line: “So sorry! I won’t bring it up again.”

“It’s okay! Lots of people ask me that.”

Questions bubble to the forefront of Ed’s mind, but he doesn’t dare vocalize any of them. Instead, he directs his attention to the window. Great green fields pass by them, some of them turning yellow as summer makes itself known throughout the land. He’s been down this road so many times—he could name the residents of each distant house, chart the line of trees as it winds back and forth. The open sky never grows old.

“Let’s play a game,” says Al suddenly. “When me and Ed were little—really little—we’d each look out a different direction and count all the cows we saw on our side of the car. Then we’d compare notes when we’d gotten out of farm territory.”

Ed groans. “You’re  _ really _ bringing back the cow-counting? Is this how desperate you are?”

“Are you sure you aren’t just upset that the last time we did this I counted more than twice as many cows as you did?”

“How the hell do you remember stuff like that??”

“One,” Al says, loud and very deliberate, “two three four five six… nine… I think that’s twelve in the field on my side.”

Ed’s head snaps around to face the window again. A lush green field stares back at him, no living creatures at all in sight. “Fine. Right. Ling, you’re on my team. Keep your eyes peeled.”

Ling sits up. “Yes sir. Cows, right?”

“You… do have cows in Xing, right?”

He scratches his head. “I’m not sure we do, Ed! You’ll have to enlighten me about these exotic creatures. Aren’t they the ones that lay eggs?”

“Okay, okay, I get it, sheesh.” He starts suddenly, jabbing his pointer finger into the glass. “Hey! Six right there! Oi, Ling, you’ve gotta be paying attention!”

“I’m so very sorry! It’s not my fault I can’t recognize a cow when I see one.”

“Shut up, I know you know what a goddamn cow is!” Another field flashes by outside the window, and Ed lets out a garbled yell. “Seven eight nine ten! I told you to pay attention!!”

“Those didn’t look like cows to me,” says Ling, as calm as Ed is fired up.

“By your own proclamation you should know—”

“Those ones were pretty far away. Maybe they’re horses.”

Ed snorts. “Like the silhouette of a horse is  _ anything _ like the silhouette of a cow.”

“Don’t you hate cows?”

“Where did you get  _ that _ idea?”

“You hate milk.”

“I hated milk when I was a stubborn kid.”

“No way.” Ling’s eyebrows rise in mock disbelief. “Don’t tell me you’ve converted into a milk-lover! That isn’t the Ed I know at all!”

“Calm down, I still don’t  _ like _ milk. I just don’t ha— _ Ling don’t look at me look at your goddamn window that was seven more cows that you just missed!!” _

“Oops,” says Ling in a monotone. “How many are we at? Seventeen?”

“More if we could work together properly,” mutters Ed. He turns around to find his fellow backseat companion sitting with his face pressed up to the glass, fully enraptured. “How many you got, Selim?”

Selim peels himself from the window and grins wordlessly.

“I believe we’re at thirty-four,” says Al.

“Fuck you,” Ed spits at the back of his brother’s head, and Selim dutifully claps his hands over his ears.

* * *

The intense game of cow-counting finally comes to a close as the fields give way to forests. By the end, Ed and Ling’s bickering has turned to intense focus, and they end up losing only very narrowly—128 to Al and Selim’s 139. Ed isn’t bitter about it. Not at all! He’s an adult, after all; he has better things to be worrying about than a game whose outcome is decided mostly by chance. Well. He  _ probably _ has better things to be worrying about. He’ll need to think more about that.

They aim to stop for lunch in the town of Gyukary. It’s one of those small towns whose existence Ed is vaguely aware of (how could he not be, given its relative proximity to Resembool) but that he’s never been to himself. It’s sort of in the middle of nowhere, far from the train stations or any main roads. But it’s in a nice haven of grassland between the forest and the desert, and that alone is enough reason for Al to have picked this particular rest stop.

When they enter town to the sight of a huge banner proudly declaring Gyukary the site of the  _ Best Cheese In Amestris! _ —Ed feels an emotion that he is utterly unable to put into words.

“Do you hate cheese too, Ed?” asks Ling, glancing at Ed in the rear view mirror, stewing silently in his… whatever the hell he’s feeling.

“Not really,” Ed mutters. It’s not that he’s angry. It’s just that the whole thing seems so… poetic? First cows, now cheese. Perfect. He’d laugh if he weren’t feeling a bit cranky from hunger. “What about you? Do you like cheese?”

“Of course!”

“Right, right.” Silly question—is there any food Ling doesn’t like?

“We barely get any in Xing, so this is very exciting.” Ling leans against the window, watching the buildings around them gradually become more densely clustered. “It always makes my stomach hurt a bunch, but it’s worth it!”

“That’s—Ling, that sounds like lactose intolerance??”

“Is that what it’s called?” Ling looks only mildly interested. “Well, I’m not about to stop eating cheese, but thank you very much for your concern.”

Before Ed can reply, Selim’s voice sounds next to him. “Um, Al. Where are we going for lunch? I’m really hungry…”

“Glad you asked!” cries Al. He slows the car, turning onto a side street, and parks.

It looks like there’s a good smattering of restaurants around where they’ve stopped. Overall, the town of Gyukary is quaint and rural, with an architectural style not unlike what one might find in Resembool. It has wide pavements and streets lined with trees, and every store seems to stand on its own, rather than being pressed up against the buildings next to it.

A chorus of relieved sighs accompanies the four as they exit the car. Selim is a ball of hyperactive six-year-old energy, running around in tight circles on the sidewalk. Ling throws his arms in the air and stretches. The motion exposes a sliver of his stomach, and Ed, embarrassingly, finds he can’t look away. Is his friend still as jacked as he was when he was fifteen? He’s actually kind of curious about this now. Does Ling still train and fight as an emperor? At a quick glance he  _ appears _ in shape, but—

“Wait a second,” Ed blurts. “Ling! That’s my shirt!!”

Ling blinks, lowering his arms and smoothing down his shirt—a burnt-orange button-up, something that Ed has for sure never worn but recognizes from the back of his closet. A slow grin comes over his face. “I told you I didn’t pack any clothes! You don’t mind, do you?”

“No,” says Ed, face burning. “It’s—whatever. We’ll go shopping tomorrow or something.”

Having locked the car, Al turns back to his three companions. He claps his hands, interrupting whatever reply Ling was about to make. “Alright! I hope you all are ready to experience the delicacy of Gyukary…!”

With a flourish, he gestures to a restaurant at the other side of the street.  _ Dave’s Grilled Cheese, _ reads the sign.

“Grilled cheese!!” Selim cries. He hops up and down, looking at Al, then to the restaurant, then Al again. “Oooh, my mom makes grilled cheese for me sometimes… but not a lot, ‘cause she says it’s unhealthy.”

Al grins. “Well, what is a road trip for if not treating yourself to fun new food?”

The restaurant turns out to be fairly busy, but it’s only a couple minutes of waiting before a table frees up. Ed and Al sit on one side; Ling and Selim sit on the other. Ed very purposefully does not put himself across from Ling. He doesn’t want to keep being reminded that Ling’s wearing his shirt. Which is, of course, stupid as fuck, but Ed’s always been particular about his clothes, and—whatever. Whatever! He’s just not going to think about it. It’s not like it  _ actually _ bothers him that much.

The restaurant is loud—patrons of all ages crowd every corner. The four of them are at a table up against a wall in the back, but there’s still enough noise to be somewhat irritating. As soon as they’re sat down, Al pulls a pair of earplugs out of his pocket and sticks them in his ears. Selim notices.

“Hey,” says Selim in a stage whisper, leaning across the table towards Ed. “What’s Al doing?”

“Hmm?” Ed glances at his brother, who is perusing the menu, then back to Selim. “Oh. He doesn’t like the noise.”

“It’s not  _ that _ loud.”

Ed shrugs. “Everyone’s got different ideas of what  _ loud _ means. You know how Al was stuck in an armor body for a while?”

Selim nods, enthralled.

“It sort of messed with how he processes sounds and touches and stuff. So now crowd noises are kind of overwhelming to him.”

“Weird,” says Selim, but not in a judgemental way. “That’s too bad!”

“I don’t think he minds much.” He doesn’t mention that Al used to be a lot more sensitive than he is today—the way he would cringe at a harsh bird call, or avoid socks with rough seams. It’s impossible to truly escape the effects of a disembodied experience. “It’s just how he is.”

“Okay!” Selim chirps. He points at the top entry on the menu—the “triple cheese classic.” “I want this one!”

They order soon after that. Al takes out his earplugs to place Selim’s order and also his own—a cheese and chicken sandwich. Ed gets classic grilled cheese with sauteed onions to make things a little more interesting. Ling, meanwhile, gets one with macaroni in it (what the fuck?) that looks absolutely hideous.

“What even  _ is _ that,” says Ed when Ling’s order arrives. It’s a massive sandwich with grilled macaroni and cheese, and apparently bacon too? It’s a lot to process.

“Al said that road trips are for treating yourself,” Ling says blithely, and bites into his sandwich. Macaroni oozes out of the sides. Ed looks away.

Once he’s focused on his own lunch rather than the shenanigans of his companions, Ed has to admit that the grilled cheese is pretty good. Ling’s vanilla milkshake, which Ed takes the liberty of splitting with Selim after Ling groans loudly and declares that his lactose intolerance has finally gotten the better of him, is also pretty good. Al and Ling split the bill (much to Ling’s chagrin), and the four of them take some time to walk around town before finally returning to the car.

“I think I finally understand the nature of hubris,” moans Ling, flopping down in the front seat like a wet macaroni noodle. “This is what happens when you defy nature, Ed!”

Ed snorts. “If you think a stomachache is the worst you can get from defying the laws of nature—”

“Clearly you’ve never had such a terrible stomachache.” Ling sinks lower in his seat, laying his head on the armrest. “I think I’m going to die.”

“Get back to me when you’ve lost two limbs!”

“Oh, come now, Ed, it isn’t a competition!”

“Is this what you’re like as an emperor? Do you just laze around and get all sulky whenever something slightly bad happens to you?”

“I think we’re just a bad influence on him,” says Al, bemused.

“Exactly!” Ling sits up fast, then lets out a grunt of pain. He twists around and flashes a grin at Ed. “We’re not in the middle of a war, and I’m not in charge of running a country, so I think I deserve to be a little histrionic.” He slings an arm over the back of the seat. “Don’t you pity me, Ed? My wonderful road trip lunch, ruined by my own genetics…”

“Absolutely not. You did this to yourself.”

“You could at least be a  _ little _ sympathetic to your old friend.”

The car shudders as Al turns on the engine. “Put on your seatbelt, Ling,” Al warns, and Ling dutifully turns back around—but not before shooting one more exaggerated frown at Ed.

They leave Gyukary behind in a cloud of smoke, and set off into the desert towards Rush Valley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> grilled cheese is really an american thing but look. it’s good  
> also fun fact, i gave ed my personal go-to grilled cheese order! (the cow-counting game is also based on personal experience…)


End file.
